Following Life's Red Ribbon
by Athens Eternal Maiden
Summary: -First in the Color Series- Seven romances bloom, and wind themselves through life. Hearts are broke, and lives changed forever. SPAIN/AUSTRIA, NICHU, Nyo!BELARUS/UK, PRUCAN, AMERICA/LITHUANIA, GERITA, RUSSIA/HONG KONG Rating subject to change


**A/N: Well, a new Hetalia story for you! This one chapter has taken me forever to write, and even longer to get the nerve to type.**

**It's a wonder I can pick a pair to write about, I ship so many!**

**I hope you enjoy!**

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><p><strong>Pairings:<strong>

**[1]- AustriaSpain (For a friend, sorry you never got your one-shot, but... I hope you enjoy)**

**[2]- Nichu (ChinaJapan)**

**[3]- Male!BelarusEngland (I... just love it...)**

**[4]- PruCan **

**[5] AmericaLithuania **

**[6]- GerIta (IT'S CANNON~!)**

**[7]- RussiaHong Kong (My own twisted brain child /shot)**

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><p><strong><em>.:Following Life's Red Ribbon:.<em>**

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><p><strong><em>.:Chapter One:.<em>**

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><p><strong><em>.:Section [1]; Part I:.<em>**

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><p>"No."<p>

Rodderich Edelstien had made up his mind. He simply would _not _adhere to that rule! Why should he? It was an eon old; nobody had expected the family- or, for that matter, the world- to last this long!

"Rodderich," his mother said "You do not have a choice. My ancestors made this pact, and I fully intend to honor them by going through with it!"

Maria Theresa Edelestien was just as stubborn (if not even more so) as her son, and family honor was a high priority in her mind. Her family had soared to the top of European and American social ladders through many years of climbing, and she simply would _not _be the one to knock them down a rung.

"Your mother is right, Young Master." the blonde haired butler, Lothar, said, his thick Germanic accent highly evident. "You must-"

"Yes, yes, I know, 'honor my ancestors and their choices beacause without them I would be working on an Austrian potato farm." Rodderich repeated the medium that had been repeated to him on almost a daily basis since birth. "But, is this _truly _nessacary? It is almost a taboo in modern society for such things to happen/"

Maria Theresa cocked her head. "Arranged marriages?"

Rodderich sighed. "_No, _mother."

"Then, what?"

"Madam," Lothar said "I believe he means marriage between two males."

Ms. Edilstein waved the comment away with the dissmissive flick of a dainty wrist. "Nonsense!" she said. "And, if it were, think of all the attention it would bring to both of the families for endorsing it!"

For what felt like the umpteenth time since the marriage had been announced that morning, Rodderich sighed. His mother had made a strong point. Families credited with the normalicy of social taboos were often remembered long past their time.

"It would produce no heirs to the name," Rodderich argued weakly, using the only other flaw he could find. "Then who would carry on the family?"

"You can- and you will- adopt." Maria Theresa said, glaring at her son.

"Do _not _try to get out of this," she warned "Or I will disown you, and I will make sure you never get a penny of your inheritance."

Rodderich lowered his head in defeat. Oh, how he loathed his dependancy on his mothers wealth. It was a constant threat to be diowned, and it was a quite scary one to Rodderich.

"Yes mother." he said softly, in a sad and small whimpering voice, much like the whimper of a beaten dog.

"Great!" Maria Theresa smirked. "Now, shall we begin arrangements for the ceremony? I was thinking very traditional. Opinions?"

"Very lovely, mother."

"Oh, thank you dearest! And, how about roses? With ivy garnish?"

"Beautiful mother." Rodderich robotically praised. He knew not to argue further. He could only hop this was over soon...

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><p><strong><em>.:Section [2]; Part 1:.<em>**

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><p>"Kiku," Yao Wang called. "It's Sunday! Wake up, aru!"<p>

Kiku groggily blinked his eyes and groaned. "Coming, Yao-kun." he replied, and he slowly swung his legs down and got out of bed.

Still blinking the remnates of sleep from his eyes, he got dressed, and went in to the apartment's small kitchenette.

"Good morning, Yaoi-kun." Kiku mumbled to a highly distracted Yao.

"Morning, aru." Yao quickly replied, putting frozen waffles in the toaster with one hand, and getting the milk from the firdge with the other. "We're going to have to go to the store a bit later today. I got paid yesterday, and, we have a bit left over from last week, so, we should be okay, aru."

"Hai."

"Oh, and remember to get Ms. Zapata's paper tomorrow. She'll yell at me again if you don't, aru!"

"Hai."

"And don't forget to water the geraniums and feed the fish."

"Ha-wait, we don't have geraniums or a fish."

Yao smiled, and used his now free hand to ruffle Kiku's hair affectionatly. "Just seeing if you were listening."

Kiku tryed to hide the blush rising to his cheeks. Why did it have to be him? Why was _he _the one in love with one who could never love him back?

His brother. His adoptive brother, who'd cared for him ever since his adoptive parents had died. There were so many thing wrong with the way he felt, and he knew it.

They were_ brothers_. Not by blood, mind you, so it wasn't to bad. But, they were brothers all the same.

And, as if that wasn't enough, Yao was twenty-five, ten years Kiku's elder. Not to mention the distinct gender issue...

"You okay, aru?'" Yao asked, a concerened frown forming on his face.

"Hai." Kiku said, masking the hurt carefully with a gentle smile, like always.

_No. _He _should _tell him. He'd never lied to his brother before, why do it now?

_Beacause, _he told himself _He would hate you. It is unatural and disgusting, and you know you need to stop._

"Excuse me, Yao-kun, I need to go out for a bit." Kiku said, thinking the fresh air shoulld be able to clear his head.

"Okay, aru." Yao went over and hugged his troubled brother. "Love you."

Kiku felt tears start to build up. He pulled away and mumbled "Love you, too."

He waited until the old apartment building was behind him to let a single tear escape. _Love you, love you. _The mantra in his brother's voice repeated, driving him insane. _No, _Kiku pushed it away. _No, you don't. Not the way I want you to._

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><p><strong><em>.:Section [3]; Part 1:.<em>**

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><p>Nickolai looked around the edge of his book, waiting for him to come.<p>

He spotted a tuft of blonde hair, with another running to catch up to the first. "Mon chere," the runner said in a voice a bit to loud for a library, his blonde locks flying out behind him like jet streams. "Wait for moi~!"

The other head stopped. "Fine, but, hurry up, frog." it snapped. "My book won't wait much longer!"

_A book... _Nickolai thought. _I wonder which one... _

"But, Arthur, it is a _book." _the French sighed, finally catching up to his British companion. "It wil not be going anywhere."

Nickolai set down his book, completely giving up on stealth. "_Francis," _Arthur hissed "It is not _just _a book, it is a classic!"

"But, _why _would you want to read something that grusome?" the blue eyed teen whined.

"Dracula is not grusome!"

_Ah, Dracula. _ickolai nodded. _It figures my Alrthur would like something like that._

Arthur really wasn't Nickolai's, not in any way. In fact, they had only spoken once, barely qualfying as aquantences. But, this did not stop Nickolai from being (and these were his own words) "madly in love" with the self-proclaimed British gentleman.

Now one- or many- would argue that there wasn't much to love about Arthur, but, Nickolai could state a thousand reasons why (at least, to him) they were wrong.

There were his eyes. Not the catipillar-esque eyebrows above them, but, the eyes themself. The striking green color reminded him of fresh spring grass, something he didn't see much of back in Russia.

His hair was another thing. Some may call it messy, Nickolai called it beautiful. Though when it was compared to his French companion's flowing locks, Arthur looked like he always had a severe case of bed-head (there really was not a head of hair out there that didn't look lusterless compared to Francis' imaculate tresses), Nickolai never looked at anybody but Arthur, so, Arthur's hair was the most beautiful by default.

Nickolai watched as Arthur went over to the shelf of classics, and heared the less than soft string of curses when the title was not found.

As Arhtur and Francis left the library, with Arthur's head hung in defeat, Nickolai smiled. _Well, _thought he _Now I know what my first gift should be. _

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><p><strong><em>.:Section [4]; Part 1:.<em>**

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><p>Mathieu proofread what seemed to be at least his fiftyith book of the night, hoping it was the one; the book that would finally make him a big star in the world of publishing agents. Or, at least a tiny blip.<p>

He skimmed, his eyelids drooping, only the occasional plot point sticking out to him. Young boy... pirate ship... ancient Greece... next.

College... twenty-six students... angst, angst... next.

Boarding school... missing student... bomb plot... world domination... next.

Gril... mythology... Medusa... killed... next.

Small town... beauty peagant... murder... private detctive... maybe.

Mathieu put that one in a small pile of possibiltes.

"_Kesses~_" the snake like laugh of Mathieu's supervisor rang out. "You're still here?"

He was about to reply, when he heard another voice reply: "Yes, Gilbert, I am." Elizaveta, a co-worker of Mathieu's was the one speaking. "And that does not give you the ground to flirt with me.:

Mathieu's heart sank. "I don't even know why I hope anymore." he sighed. "He doesn't notice me; no one here does."

It was true. Whilt working there, he had only been noticed twice. Once because in someone's mad dash to the coffe machine he had been trampled, and the other when he had been hired. Other than that, he was invisible, in the most literal sense possible. At any given time he was sat upon, stepped on or if he was beig spoken to (when the odd occasion arose) the person would eventually stop and say "Who am I talking to?" and walk away.

Mathieu was sick of it. He was tired of going home, still alone, and still unseen to the world.

But, there we perks. He never had to worry about making the wrong impression, becasue he knew it would always be forgotten sooner or later, replaced with something more important than the quitet Canadian who's name nobody could ever recall.

Mathieu got up, shut down his computer, and sighed. Still hearing Gilbert's failing attempts to woo Elizaveta, he shook his head and started making his way towards the elevator. The door was just about to close when he heard a call of "Hold the door!"

Quicker than a panther pouncing on it's prey, he stuck out his foot to re-open the closing doors for the semi-albino man running towards it.

Gilbert jumped into the elevator, gasping for breath. "Thanks," he wheezed, flashing Mathieu a grin. "Lizzy was about to kill me."

Gilbert paused. "You new?"

"No," Mathieu replied. "I've been working here for almost six years."

Gilbert rasied an eyebrow. "And I never talked to you?"

"You and Yong Soo trampled me in a race to the coffe machine once."

"That was you?" Mathieu nodded.

"Oh."

They stood there for a moment, the soft whir of the elevator being the only noise. "So... what's your name?"

"Mathieu, Mathieu Williams."

"Well," Gilbert said "Nice to re-meet you, I guess?"

Mathieu smiled. "Yes, nice to re-meet you, too, Gilbert."

The ding went off, and both of them went their seperate ways, bidding eachother goodnight."

When Mathieu finally reached home, he noticed that the ever-present feeling of loneliness was no longer there.

As he undressed and let sleep take his fatuiged mind and body, he could only hope that it would stay at bay.

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><p><em><strong>.:Section 5; Part 1:.<strong>_

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><p>"Toris."<p>

The Lithuanian man looked up. "Oh, good evening, Mr. Jones. Welcome home."

The blonde man frowned. "Why are you so _formal _all the time?" he complained "If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, call me Alfred."

Toris felt his cheek redden. "Y-yes Mr. J- Alfred."

Alfred smiled. "Better," he said. "Now, if you need me, I'll be in my room."

When his employer had left the room, Toris sighed. Even after working there for years (going on six now), there were some things that he just could not get used to.

For example, Alfred was much to casual for Toris' tastes. In Alfred's line of work, one would think he would be stiffer than a flag pole. But, Alfred was always one to defy the odds. In his earliest years, he was told time and time again that he would not succeed. Almost always just barely scraped by with grades one or two points from failing. Then, in highschool, that all changed.

He met a girl, and fell in love. Despite his desperate attempts at wooing her, she refused him, telling Alfred that he wanted a boyfriend who had the grades to get into a good college, and exit with a job that could support a family. Decided he would get her one way or another, Alfred worked hard, and graduated top of his class. He did to college, majoring in finance, and did the same.

He didn't get the girl, she had dropped out of school after getting pregnate in her second year of college, but he didn't care anymore: he had proved everyone wrong. Alfred had said he would make something of himself, and did. He was now listed as the top accountant in the field, he owned an estate larger than the White House.

_This _was why Toris was there. Alfred never had time to cook and clean with his long work hours, and, after years of living off of Mc Donald had decided to get a house keeper. Toris, at the time, had moved to America in hopes of finding something better than what could be found in the crumbling Lithuanian economy.

When on the train bound for the Asian port where a boat was waiting to take him to his new life (he couldn't afford a plane ticket), he met an Estonian man and a young Lativian boy who shared his dreams. They traveled together, parting ways once ashore, and promising to keep in touch, which they now did sparractically.

For awhile, Toris worked odd jobs, living on the little money they provided. He soon discovered, however, that the American Dream meant a lot more than hope and some pocket change.

When he discovered Alfred's want ad, he was homeless, destute, and desperate. He all but flew to the estate, where, much to his dismay over seventy applicants were already in line, each with more experience and finesse than he could ever hop to have.

Hours passed, or, what felt like hours, at least. By the time it was Toris' turn, he had seen countless people come and go, and was a nervous wreck. His heart heavy and expectations low, he went it. He saw Alfred. and started shaking. He clammed up, like he had done when faced wit his old school master. He stutterd and stumbled through his interveiw. Then, something happend; something so insignificant, many people would pay it no mind.

But Toris did. Alfred had sneezed, and Toris had let out a whispered "bless you", and haneded him a tissue from the table next to them. The interveiw continued, Toris still flailing trough. When he got out, he was almost in tears. He had ruined it; he had ruined his only chance to live the dream. Now, he was just stranded in a forgien nation, lost and confused. Then, he heard a voice calling.

It was Alfred; he had gotten the job. Then he cried, thanking the blonde profusely through his tears. He couldn't believe it. When he asked the American why, out of all the applicants, he had been chosen Alfred merely replied: "The tissue. A lot of people brush things like that off nowadays. You helped." and made some comment about him being able to sense Toris' spunk.

That was the moment Toris realized two things, the first being that this was the beginning of a new chapter in his life; a much better one. The second: he was in love with Alfred .F. Jones.

Now, for the going on six years, he had hidden this, fearing that it would only bring pain and the end of his dream. But, he knew he couldn't hide it much longer. He either had to let his emotions out soon, or sever himself from the other male completely.

His mind was made. Tomorrow, he would quit. He had to, for his sanity's sake.

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><p><em><strong>.:Section 6; Part One:.<strong>_

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><p>Ludwig sat on a park bench, waiting for his best friend. He had already been there for two hours, making his friends an hour and thirty minutes late. But, that was fine, Felicano was never on time anyway.<p>

Any spectator who didn't know the duo and saw them together could see that they were an odd pair. Felicano, the ever cheery brunette who could never stop talking, and Ludwig, the blonde who was to silent for his own good. But, Ludwig had mused many times over, it was a classic case of oppisites attract; Felicano bringing out the softer side side of Ludwig, and Ludwig inturn making sure Felicano kept down to earth. A weird pair they may be, but, that was the way they liked it.

After about fifteen more minutes, just as Ludwig assumed the Italian had forgotten their meeting, as he did every one in a while, Felicano came bounding over. "Ve~ I'm so sorry I'm late, Ludwig!" he said in his customary dream-like tone "But, there was a cat in the shop, and fratello wanted me to chase it out. But, it was cute, so I couldn't. Then, fratello yelled at me, and I told him I had to go and see you, so he yelled at me more for going to see you. He hit me on the head with a broom, and it hurt, so I had to put ice on it, and that's why I was late!"

Ludwig was slowly processing the story. "So... it was Lovino's fault?"

"Yes,"

Ludwig let a small smile grace his normally stotic features for a short moment, before becoming serious again. "If your brother doesn't like it, you really shouldn't be coming to meet." he sighed, rubbing his temples.

"But, you're my best friend, and Lovi's always like that."

"True..."

They just sat in silence for a moment, until Felicano spoke again. "I really am sorry for being so late."

Ludwig put a hand on his friends shoulder. "I _know, _Felicano. I should know first hand how long Lovino can go on, and you got..." he shuddered "_two _lectures."

"Ve~ I almost forgot that he yells at you almost as much as he does me."

"I think he yells at me _more _than he yells at you." Ludwig replied.

"... he really is _always_ yelling at you when you're with me."

"Exactly my point."

Again, they lapsed into slience. Then, it was again Felicano who broke it, reaching into the bag he had brought and pulling out a tupperware container. Knowing Felicano, that could only contain one thing...

"I almost forgot!" Felicano said "I made you some pasta~!"

Ludig sighed, but took the container anyways. "Why do you insit upon cooking for me?" he asked.

"Because," Felicano said "You wouldn't eat if I didn't. You work to much."

Ludwig couldn't argue with that; he did work long hours at the law firm, but, that was a small price to pay for the power being senior parnter gave you. "Thank you, Feli."

"You're welcome!" the Italian sang.

Yes, and odd couple they may be, but Ludwig would never have it any other way.

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><p><strong><em>.:Section 7; Part 1:.<em>**

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><p>Karou Xiang was scared, tired, and lost. Oh, <em>why <em>did they have to move to New York?

He was currently wandering a dingy street, hoping to see something, anything, that would help him get home. Mei was going to kill him if he wasn't home by dinner time! He had gotten lost on his way from school, trying to see it he could find a short cut home. Well,_ that _had turned out to be _such _a good idea!

The Hong Kong punk had never felt so confused in his life. This never happend back home! "You lost?"

Kaoru turned, and was met with the sneering face of a strange middle-aged man. "Yes." Kaoru answerd, and instanly mentally slapped himself for saying so. This wasn't going to end well, he had seen enough televisiona and read enough manga to know that much.

"Then, maybe," the man gripped Kaoru's shoulder, and whispered in his ear. "You should stay with me a bit..."

This was not happening. He needed to run; he needed to get away. But, he was somehow frozen with fear. "Tony! _Nyet!"_ the voice that spoke was distictly Russian. The man cringed, and turned.

"_Privet, _Ivan." he said "I was about to help the boy get home."

"Nyet," Kaoru could see the Russian now. He was tall, and largish around the mid-section (But, not quite fat). His nose was big, and he had a soft purple scarf around his neck. In his hands, he held a sink pipe, faucet still attacked. "You will be going now; I vill help him, da?"

"Y-yes." the man let go of Kaoru, and walked away. The Russian let the assultor pass, but not without a heavy glare. Then, he turned to Kaoru.

"Vhy are you here?" he asked.

"I'm lost." Kaoru replied, fiddling with the spiked braclet he wore nervously.

"Vould you kie some help getting home?" Kaoru nodded. "Vhere do you live"

Kaoru stuttered out the name of his apartment building. "Come, I vill help you."

They walked out of the alley, Kaoru gripping onto the othe male's hand like a life-line. He was trying to take everything in, but, the Russian moved to fast for him to make something of the blurs flying past. Suddenly, he dug his heels into the ground, a thought hitting him: he had no clue _where _the man was taking him. For all he knew, he had just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. The Russian turned. "Vhat is wong?" he asked, and Kaoru made no move to answer. He didn't need to; his expression said it all.

The man chuckled. "You do not trust me." Kaoru still said nothing. "There is no need for that, _lybov, _we are here, see?" he pointed across the street, and there was Kaoru's apartment building. Before the man could say another thing, he shot across the narrow street and was in the building. When the Hong Kong teen was out of sight, the Russian man chuckled darkly.

"Until next time, _lyuvbov," _he said "When the stars aligin again."

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><p><strong>AN: I hand wrote this before posting; it was over fourty pages long.**

**R&R?**

**- Athena**


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